


Bad Blood

by rightonthelimit



Series: Tom/Harry Drabble Collection [33]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Universe - Magic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love had come to him in the shape of Harry James Potter, who simply took a crowbar and wrecked the lock on his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Blood

**A/N:** **Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Summary:** Love had come to him in the shape of Harry James Potter, who simply took a crowbar and wrecked the lock on his heart.

 **Warnings:** Alternative Universe (magic), established relationship

**Bad Blood**

There is only a small amount of ways left to depict love in a simple string of words which goes beyond anything ever experienced or already created, and Tom had yet to find the proper manner to do so even after months of studying the subject.

What we need to establish before we even get started is that Tom Marvolo Riddle is a strong independent man. He does not need a partner to hold his hand every waking moment. Tom does not need confirmation to know that he is, in fact, very handsome and talented - he does not need the comfort of another person keeping his bed warm for him during cold nights. Never had he been lonely in his adult life before, dreadful long days spent in the orphanage having become a part of his well-ignored past a very long time ago.

But he was curious about it and that made all the difference.

All his life he had heard about the magic, the  _power_ of love but he never truly understood it and if there was one thing he hated then it would be not knowing something. He didn't _have_ to have love in his life - he just wanted to know, he just needed to explore. Even to someone like him the world was still full of secrets and the only secrets he would ever find acceptable were his own.

Tom read a lot of books on love. He even read Muggle romance novels – some awful and distasteful, some awakening something achingly similar to interest in his soul. He simply wanted to  _know_ so he could move on and be certain he wasn't missing out on something. That the path he paved for himself brick by brick was the right one.

All those books had one thing on common and that was that love could thaw the coldest of hearts, bring life to the most barren wastelands. Muggles celebrated and glorified love the same way Wizards did - it was like everyone was in on the joke except for Tom, who never truly had anyone to love or anyone who genuinely loved him in return. He had associated love with weakness and obsession but the more he read the more he needed to know, the more he created his own views on the matter.

Tom did not believe that every human being had its other half walking around on the world the way the old Greek myths told him, but he did believe that every human being had potential of believing they did. It seemed that it wasn't until one was willing to open up their heart and mind (and, just for the hell of it, their _soul_ ) that love would in fact find a way to creep up on said person and settle deep inside, gnawing like a festering wound until they are resorted to nothing more but a lovesick fool. Love appeared to be a disease yet a cure, the salt in the wound, the unexpected hero when all was lost. It came in many shapes and sizes and it was infinite in the very same way Tom wanted to be.

Its power was something no one could control and Tom could not decide to himself if it truly was something worth the risk if it could wreak so much havoc.

Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn’t the type of person to be willing to open up his heart quite that easily. He wasn't looking for love, it didn't hit him in the face like  _wham, bam – thank you m'am_  the way people and his precious books said it would. Maybe it had been fate after all, but the one thing as close to love that Tom would ever find came to him in the shape of a man who barely reached his shoulders and was everthing Tom was not.

It came in the shape of Harry James Potter, who simply took a crowbar and wrecked the lock Tom Marvolo Riddle had on his heart.

They didn’t meet on a rainy afternoon in a coffee shop, though the romance novels hinted that that's where true love starts – in random, conveniently vaguely romantic places. They didn’t run into each other by accident when they were in a hurry to get to work on time either, in fact, it wasn’t even _love_ at first sight.

It was more than that.

There honestly were days where Tom mused with the thought of strangling Harry Potter. He was pretty skilled in hiding bodies and after making his first and only Horcrux the lines truly kind of blurred between what was right and what was wrong. He still didn't understand love, or how the two of them had even come to be whatever they were at this moment, but there was this weird pull in him that told him he'd regret it forever if he'd get rid of Harry and he supposed that maybe that was as much love he could feel.

Harry always said Tom ought to smile more.

Tom always said Harry ought to shut up more.

Tom didn't understand the magic behind it all. Harry was convinced that Tom loved him – that Tom would be miserable without him and Tom never said it out loud but he thought that maybe he was right. All his life Tom had been alone. That he had to fall for a loudmouthed Gryffindor of all people only proved how clueless and stupid love was.

It was a type of magic he would never learn to fully appreciate because it was complicated and nonsensical and Tom liked it when things were in their right place. This _love,_ it was messy and loud and all over the place and he had concluded his studies with that decision. Like a fire it would be beautiful and strong but it also destroyed a lot in its wake. How many powerful men had fallen victim to this type of magic, had succumbed and let their great plans for the future slip through their fingers?

Harry was currently pressed into Tom's side on their couch reading the Daily Prophet review of his performance on the Quidditch field. The headlines read a blaring _Powerhouse Potter does it again!_ and Tom wondered why Harry valued the opinion of people who would write lies about him just as willingly. He himself was reading a book written by a Muggle named Shakespeare – life as an intern at the Ministry was difficult and this was his first day off in weeks.

But it was worth it.

His plan of becoming Minister of Magic would work, one way or another. He _will_ become that what he was born to be – a leader, a _change_ in this world. Nothing would stop him. He would not too become a victim of this toxic magic.

Harry hummed and carelessly reached for Tom's hand, squeezing it while his eyes were glued on the newspaper. A small, innocent gesture which still made something in Tom's chest feel odd.

Could this be love? Wanting to be close to another person – wanting to keep them forever, no matter how obnoxious they were? Tom didn't know. He had once read that there were many shades of love, hatred being one of them. He had once read that the absolute opposite of love was lack of interest, and Tom did not lack interest in Harry at all. He sometimes wanted to punch him through a wall and hex him, yes, and he sometimes felt something achingly similar to hatred towards Harry.

But he could not imagine a future without Harry by his side and he supposed that maybe Harry was right.

Maybe Tom did love Harry. Maybe he had halted his studies too soon.

 


End file.
